


A Kettle of Hawkes

by doctorhawke (AlwaysTired)



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Family, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:14:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26183266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlwaysTired/pseuds/doctorhawke
Summary: “When hawks flock, it's called a kettle of hawks… Typically preferring to live alone, hawks that migrate take advantage of large groups to help find warm wind currents known as thermals.”Have you ever wondered what would happen if Malcolm and Leandra Hawke were serial child adopters? If there were not three, but eight Hawke children?This series of free-floating, mostly non-chronological snippets follows all six of my Hawke OCs- their interactions with each other, their exploits in a new city, and their inner lives. The tone of each varies wildly, and all relationships are tagged as background as they come up. Tags will be updated as chapters come out, and the notes of each chapter will clarify which tags apply where!Visual reference for all my Hawkes, plus bios under the cut, if you're curious! https://doctorhawke.tumblr.com/post/620323191568678912/all-six-of-my-oc-hawkes-in-one-big-thing-i-have
Kudos: 2





	1. A New Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Features all Hawkes: Syl, Steve, Kit, Lith, Nyx, and Lou, as well as Leandra. Takes place at the beginning of Act 2, right after the purchase of the Hawke Estate.

It was an almost unspeakably decent day in Kirkwall. The markets were bustling, Hightown alive with nobles out for afternoon strolls, Chantry sisters giggling to each other, and the general murmur of elite city life. As the Hawke family approached the estate formerly owned by the Amells, and next by Tevinter slavers, an air of excitement grew. When the siblings had cleared out the slavers, they hadn’t expected anything more than a piece of paper and the unique sense of satisfaction that comes from murdering people who truly deserve it. But now, months later, they approached a new home. 

The Hawke estate’s front door was wreathed in vines. The Amell family crest which served as their home’s address was half covered, and Leandra swept plant matter from its ridges with a soft firmness. She gazed at it for a moment, then turned to her children. Carver and Bethany were absent, and their loss to the Wardens was still fresh in her heart. And Malcolm, she thought with a soft pang. That loss no longer ate at her, but she knew he would have been proud to see this moment. 

Her six remaining children stood before her, at the threshold of her family’s legacy. The beginning of a new chapter in that continuing legacy. Steve lightly touched her elbow.

“Are you ready?” he asked. She nodded in return.

Syl reached out to open the door, and held it for Leandra. Gingerly, she stepped into her childhood home. 

The furnishings had changed, but the home itself was the same. _It will need to be tidied,_ she thought to herself. Plenty of time for that later.

She smiled as her children entered behind her with a chorus of oohs and ahhs. 

“We really _are_ rich now, aren’t we?” Nyx murmured. 

“Dibs on the master bedroom!” came Kit’s cry. 

Lith sharply elbowed him. “Kit! Obviously Mother should get the master bedroom.”

“Oh, I think I’ll be taking my old room,” Leandra said, eyes straying up the staircase. “I was never allowed in the master bedroom, it would feel odd sleeping there now.”

Kit smirked at Lith before bounding forward, giving his mother a quick peck on the cheek, and rushing up the staircase.

“Hey!” Syl called after him, following close behind. “Who do you think you are?”

“Fuck, wait for me! I want to see!” Nyx said. Lith huffed, annoyed, and the twins scrambled up the stairs after their older siblings.

Steve was standing quietly to one side, arms crossed with a fond but exasperated look on his face.

For his part, Lou was peering around the house with an owlish expression, hat in hand. Leandra wandered to his side. 

“Are you alright, dear?” 

Lou idly chewed his lower lip. “It’s just… ain’t it awful big?”

“I suppose it is, but our family is big- much bigger than when I grew up here,” Leandra replied.

“I s’pose we’ll fit better here than we did at Gamlen’s. But still, it’s….” Lou trailed off, gesturing aimlessly with one hand, looking hopelessly overwhelmed.

Leandra softly laid a hand on his outstretched arm, drawing his gaze back to her. “There’s one thing here I know you’ll like. The stables.”

“Stables?”

“I’ll show you,” she replied, taking hold of the crook of his arm. 

As they left for the stables, Steve took another look around the large living space. The cold fireplace stood to one side, the dramatic staircase to another, and doors leading to more sprawling rooms were placed at every possible juncture. Steve ran a hand through his hair and reached for his staff. With it’s familiar weight in his palm, he took a deep breath. He leaned the staff against the mantle.

“Home.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The situation in the master bedroom had escalated quickly. Nyx was sprawled on the dusty, canopied bed, with Kit tugging on one of their arms and Syl on the other. They were cackling as Lith stood by the foot of the bed. 

“I’m older, it should be mine,” Syl shouted.

“It’s not fair that you always get things because you’re older!” Kit retorted. “And Mother basically said I could have it!”

“Not sure how either of you are gonna get the room when I’m never leaving this bed!” Nyx said gleefully.

The three continued, talking over each other and yanking Nyx’s wayward, noodly limbs every which way. 

Hands on her hips, Lith watched the scene unfold with increasing dismay. Caught between wanting to lecture each of them, she settled on a loud “Stop!”

 _Honestly, the lengths one must go to be heard in this family,_ she thought. 

The three paused and looked to her. She stared them each down one by one.

“Fucking what?” Syl said, unaffected and quite frankly exasperated by the interruption.

“Nobody should get the master bedroom! There’s plenty of good rooms, and if one of us gets the largest, this argument is never going to end!” Lith said firmly, feeling very certain that this would put a stop to the chaos. 

The other three shared a look between them. A moment passed, then another. 

And all at once, the fighting resumed. Syl quickly gained the upper hand after the momentary stillness, yanking Nyx fully off the bed and wrestling them to the floor. Kit, having lost what leverage he had, let out a battle cry and jumped directly atop Syl, knocking her off balance. Elbows flew. Siblings rolled. 

Lith, throwing her hands up in the air, turned and left the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song for this chapter: North- Sleeping At Last


	2. Champion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Start notes: Centers on Syl, set a week after the fight with the Arishok. (Briefly features Steve, alludes to his budding relationship with Anders.) As the only warrior, Syl took up the challenge, and after defeating him, was named the Champion of Kirkwall. She did not take it well.

Syl was sulking. 

Ever since last week, Syl had been sulking. _What the hell are they calling me Champion for, I’m not a champion,_ she thought for perhaps the hundredth time. _So stupid._ She shifted restlessly at the table, hands balled on the cool wooden surface. _Ugh!_

The sound of the door opening came from behind her. She did not move. 

Steve brushed past her as he entered the Hawke estate bundled in a long winter coat. As he beelined for the table, he greeted Syl with a nod. 

“You look terrible,” she said. 

He paused in his rushed harvest of the spread on the table and raised an eyebrow. “Thanks.”

“Are you just now getting home? It’s mid-morning.”

“And here you are still at the breakfast table. Did you eat?”

Syl’s arms retracted to cross in front of her. “Don’t quiz me about my diet when you didn’t sleep.”

“I’ve been at the clinic. Things got hairy.”

Syl opened her mouth to respond.

“ _Don’t,_ I mean medically.”

“I wasn’t gonna!” Syl protested. It was at this point that she resolved herself to going back to sulking.

“There was an elven woman giving birth, and someone brought in a leg wound so bad we had to amputate. I’m exhausted,” Steve said, going back to picking out baked goods and fruits. Seemingly satisfied, he sat down with a sigh and began eating. 

Between bites, he continued. “Tried to get Anders to come over and eat but he wanted to sleep at the clinic. Didn’t have the energy to convince him.”

Syl grunted in response. 

“Still upset?” 

Syl did not respond despite the genuine concern in her brother’s voice. 

Steve sighed. “At some point you’re going to have to accept it, you know.” This earned him a glare. Steve gazed at her evenly as he continued eating a croissant. 

Syl stood abruptly. “Bullshit Orlesian food. Don’t even know why you like those so much.” She whirled around and stalked away.

Steve quietly pondered the croissant.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Up the stairs, down the hall, into the master bedroom. Syl caught herself from slamming the door behind her at the last second, remembering Merrill was still asleep. _That was close,_ she thought to herself. Quietly she moved to the desk to retrieve the dagger that she knew Merrill kept sharpest, and crept back out of the dark room.

Back down the hall, into one of the estate’s many bathrooms. Syl stood before the mirror, which was ornately framed in gold. She took down her ponytail and stared hard at her reflection. She lowered her chin to make herself look more intimidating, tattoos enhancing the intensity of her eyebrows and of her bright, icy glare. 

She rarely saw her own hair loose. Fresh from baths she always swept it back up while it was still wet, and though Merrill generally took it down for her each night, there was no mirror in their room. Or, at least, not in their room at the Hawke estate. Syl tugged idly at the ends of her short but shaggy hair. Gold, almost the exact shade of the frame around her reflection.

 _It’s got to go._ She lifted the dagger and began to slice. The process was slow going, but she was utterly determined. Syl found that she could breathe easier with each persistent, measured sweep of the blade. Several minutes of work found her floating on air.

 _Teach them to call me Champion._ She grinned triumphantly at her reflection, hair not so short to be shaved, but approaching that. It was completely uneven, but it was cut. Bone deep satisfaction filled Syl as she pictured stalking the streets of Hightown with her new look. _Maybe this will shut the nobles up for a while._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End notes: Lith evens out the haircut basically immediately, but everybody is delighted that Syl is using her sulk energy to engage in productive and petty body modifications rather than continue to grump around the estate.
> 
> Song for this chapter: Bad Reputation- Joan Jett (<33)


	3. Streets Run Red

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Focuses on Nyx in the heat of battle.

The midst of battle. Flashing twin blades as Isabela spun in and out of sight. Foes rushed from every direction, and Fenris, sped through several, blood spurting from severed limbs. Steve stood off to one side maintaining a healing aura and amassing reserve energy for potential emergency. 

Nyx was breathing hard, having just pushed back a wave of advancing warriors with a mind blast. The stun effect incapacitated them just long enough for Nyx to cast chain lightning, zapping a few directly to their graves, the rest of them falling to their knees in agony. 

Out of the corner of their eye, they saw another group appear around a corner and begin to rush Fenris. Nyx smirked. The enemies were moving in a tight formation- formidable against a warrior as skilled as Fenris, but a perfect target for Nyx. 

_Deep breath,_ Nyx thought, remembering what Merrill had advised. _Feel for your heartbeat. Breathe with it._

It had been only a few weeks ago that Merrill had shown them this new spell, and Nyx had only practiced it alone a few times. 

They raised their staff, blade end pointed inward, and stabbed. The searing pain was accompanied by a rising surge of power. Nyx could feel it flow over them, the intoxicating feeling of tapping into a deep energy supply.

Nyx pooled all that energy, focusing it like they would any other spell, shaping it to inflict maximum damage on the thicket of foes who were now attacking Fenris with gusto.

“Fenris! Get down!” they shouted, cutting through the cacophony of clanging metal.

Fenris, who had suffered through friendly fire from Nyx before, reacted instantly. 

Nyx unleashed the spell with a loud, “HAH!” 

It swirled from their fingertips, forming a whirlwind of destructive force which circled the group and converged down onto them. Blood poured from their eyes, their ears, and the air was filled with the sound of wailing. All but one of the targets fell dead within seconds, more blood outside their bodies than within. The cloud of blood dissipated, and the remaining foe fell to the ground, convulsing. Isabela calmly approached from behind and slit the person’s throat.

Fenris glared up at Nyx. He’d slid barely clear of the spell’s radius and was still sprawled on the stones. Nyx grinned back at him, and Fenris sighed heavily, dropping his head down to the ground. 

“Haven’t seen that one before,” Isabela commented.

“I like to keep things fresh,” Nyx said, wrenching their staff from its place in their midsection, as Steve rushed them. 

“Let me heal you,” he instructed, one hand firmly on their shoulder and the other already glowing with mana. Nyx, rolling their eyes, released their tether to the blood swirling in the air around them. Steve sighed with relief, instantly flooding them with healing magic. “Really wish you wouldn’t do that, Nyx.”

“The blood magic? I thought-”

“You don’t need to impale yourself through the middle with your own staff to use blood magic,” Steve clarified, tense. 

“It’s more effective the closer you get to the heart,” Nyx said with a wicked smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just really wanted to write blood magic tbh, poor Steve has heart attacks every other day about this reckless dumbass' safety.
> 
> Song for this chapter: Kill of the Night- Gin Wigmore


	4. A Bard's Despair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place at the end of Act 1, during the Deep Roads quest! Centers on Lou but everyone is here vibing in the underground, might eventually write a few more in the Deep Roads from different perspectives.

The caverns of the Deep Roads were wide and winding. And echoey. They’d been plodding along for days when Lou had an idea.

He pulled a small instrument, the smallest Lou had, from his pack.

Lou brought it to his mouth, and the warm buzz of the harmonica filled the tunnel. He closed his eyes, letting the chords shift fluidly under his fingertips- until he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Lou, we really shouldn’t make unnecessary noise, the darkspawn will hear,” Anders said.

Lou faltered, looking at the harmonica. He ran his free hand awkwardly through his hair, and shrugged, putting it back in his bag.

~~

Bartrand had locked them in. The eight Hawkes, plus Varric and Anders, were hopelessly stuck in the bowels of the ancient dwarven ruins. Lou could see his despair mirrored on each face. Varric looked to be holding in more choice words for Bartrand, his confusion and rage evident.

“Well, I suppose we’d better start looking for a way out!” Kit said, forcing a cheery tone and giving Varric’s shoulder a squeeze.

They began to fan out and explore, always staying in sight of each other.

The stone menaced from above. Lou couldn’t help the terror pouring into him with each passing moment. He tugged at strands of his hair as the party delved deeper into the endless maze. His mind conjured images of horror stories about the catacombs beneath Val Royeaux- skulls lining the walls, hollow eyes locked into perpetual stares. 

He shivered. How many dwarves had died here? How many darkspawn lurked around the corner? Memories of the horrors of Ostagar filled his vision. The smell of death and decay, the heart shattering fear, being yanked from the fray, and fleeing desperately. Only to end up here. In the very den of darkness they had sought so hard to escape. For what? Money? The concept seemed almost too ludicrous for him to justify. Death was not a bedfellow to be trifled with- especially when family was involved. 

The state Carver had been in, that fateful day. Syl had had to pull him off the darkspawn with both hands, hammer stowed. Both defenseless against the dark. His little brother, coated in the toxic darkspawn blood. Terror in his eyes. And here they were again- with even more of his family at risk. Lou shuddered. 

Caught up in his ruminations, he failed to notice Lith’s approach until her hand was already on his arm. The concerned tilt to her brows only deepened as he jumped out of his skin.

“Are you alright?” 

He cleared his throat, forcing out a gruff, “m’fine.” Lith hesitated, looking at him a moment longer, before giving him a reassuring smile. He tried a smile in return. 

“Thanks, big sis.”

“Sure, Louie.”

_Gotta shake these jitters,_ Lou thought to himself. _Ain’t any use to anybody scared outta my boots._

His instinct was to hum, but Anders had warned against excess noise. Instead, Lou focused on lyrics, thoughts drifting away and subsumed in the steady current of his internal voice.

~~

“We should set up camp,” Anders said after they had explored the Roads for what felt like ages and came up empty. 

“Fuck, please. I’m sick of walking,” Nyx said.

“Hear, hear!” Varric seconded.

Syl scoffed. “Babies.”

“Will this be a defensible spot?” Steve asked Anders.

“Should be, we can use glyphs at these choke points if need be. For all that I hate this damned place, it at least offers plenty of crevices to rest in.” Anders gestured at the narrow entrances to the wider cavern. “And we can place sound barriers, so we can all actually talk for a bit without worry.”

Within ten minutes, camp was ready and everyone was settling into bedrolls. Conversation flowed, but remained subdued despite the security of the protective barriers. 

Lou hummed idly, scooting into a more comfortable sleeping position. He didn’t much feel like talking, but lyrics from earlier were still filling his head. 

It took a moment for him to notice that Nyx was sitting up in their bedroll, grinning at him. “Let’s hear it, cowpoke!”

“Wh-”

“C’mon, we’ve had to be quiet all day! No outlet for stress better than the power of song, isn’t that what you always say?”

“Ain’t never said that,” Lou replied, brow furrowed.

“Don’t pretend you don’t believe it, though.” Nyx smiled encouragingly, weariness from the day’s events plain on their face. “Please?”

“Hrm, well alright I s’pose, just lemme think of somethin’ real quick.”

Suddenly all the lyrics buzzing in Lou’s head had disappeared. He thought hard, and after a moment opened his mouth to begin.

_“I will not go down under the ground,  
‘Cause somebody tells me that death’s comin’ roun-”_

A chorus of no’s came unbidden from his audience.

“Too dark,” Lith said.

“And too on the nose,” Anders added. 

“Alright, alright,” Lou grumbled. “Gimme a sec.”

A moment passed. Another. 

_“King Saul fell on his sword,  
When it all went wrong,  
And Joseph’s brother sold him  
Down the river for a song,  
And S-”_

__“Absolutely not,” Varric cut in. “No way.” The peanut gallery murmured their agreement with Varric._ _

__Lou sighed heavily. “Well, what do you think I should sing?”_ _

__“I don’t know, maybe something happy?” came Varric’s reply._ _

__“Everybody’s a critic.” Lou fell silent. He flopped back onto his bedroll, gazing high to the looming layer of stone comprising the ceiling. He sighed again, thinking. After a few minutes of silence had lain soft on the camp, he began to sing tentatively._ _

_“Run away, away with me,  
Lost souls and reverie,  
Running wild and running free,  
Two kids, you and me.  
And I say hey,  
Hey- hey- hey,  
living like we’re renegades,”_

__Lou paused. Nobody had stopped him. He continued the song, not certain whether his audience was captive or passive. But at least he was allowed to sing, so he kept on, finally reaching the last verse._ _

_“All hail the underdogs,  
All hail the new kids,  
All hail the outlaws,  
Spielbergs and Kubricks,  
It’s our time to make a move,  
It’s our time to make amends,  
Our time to break the rules,  
Let’s begin,”_

__His voice broke as he finished the final chorus, the weight of the ceiling seeming to press down on him again the moment he stopped singing._ _

__A beat of silence._ _

__“What’s a spielberg?” came Nyx’s voice._ _

__Lou barked out a laugh, and the ceiling suddenly didn’t seem to loom so large. “Huh. To be honest, I don’t rightly know.”_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is absolutely and extremely self-indulgent! <3 
> 
> Songs (in order) are:  
> Let Me Die In My Footsteps- Bob Dylan  
> Love, Love, Love- The Mountain Goats  
> Renegades- X Ambassadors  
> I'll be real all of those are featured on THIS playlist if anyone's interested: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0mEnItJirhKbzg53vX2HD3?si=etCIFoyeTlK_pfIUzRcnMw


	5. Haircut

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set in Lothering, Nyx is 16 and Syl is 17.

The breeze rolled over the Ferelden landscape, the stalks of crops swaying rhythmically. Syl sat on the dilapidated porch of the Hawke family farm. Knees high, one arm resting her head, she stared out at the landscape. A creak came from behind her. She didn’t turn.

“Hey,” Nyx said, sidling up behind her. Their fingers drummed nervously on their thigh. “What’s up?”

Syl’s profile shifted into a full view of her face as she fixed her clear-eyed stare on Nyx.

“Sitting.”

“Right.” Nyx dropped to the stairs next to her, drumming fingers shifting to the warped wood. Syl returned her gaze to the horizon. “Soooooo, uh. Sitting.”

“What is it, Nyx.” Syl asked flatly. 

Nyx reflexively crossed their arms over their chest, shrugging. A moment passed, and Syl sighed just as Nyx started. 

“It’s just, I want to know how you do that thing.”

“What thing?” Syl’s brows furrowed. 

“I don’t- it’s not a specific thing. Just the way you do things. It’s, I don’t know. The way you hold yourself.”

“I don’t get it,” Syl said, crossing her arms.

“Like, how you have your hair. And- you don’t- you don’t dress the way Lith dresses.”

Syl snorted. “Why would I want to wear Lith’s clothes.”

“Exactly! That’s what I mean. You’re confident. You do your own thing.”

Syl turned back to Nyx. “What else would I do?”

Nyx met Syl’s stare for a moment, then looked at the ground. “Maybe what people expect.”

“People don’t expect the truth.”

Nyx snapped back up to look at Syl. After a moment, Syl continued.

“They don’t expect you to be a mage, do they? And they’re wrong. You’re going to be who you’re going to be.”

“But I can’t just be a mage.”

Syl looked confused.

“I mean, I- I am a mage. But we hide.”

Syl nodded, and sat quietly. Looked up. 

“Doesn’t mean you have to hide everything.”

Nyx chewed their lower lip, fingers fidgeting. Syl would understand. If anyone would. Right? Doubt swirled with hope, until they felt they were bursting at the seams.

“I- I don’t. Um. I don’t think I’m a girl.”

Syl’s hand came to rest on their shoulder. Her piercing eyes bore into Nyx’s, and a small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. Nyx felt seen. Wholly seen. Syl spoke again.

“I need a haircut. Want to get one with me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes I'm extremely soft for these two bonding over gender thanks for asking!
> 
> Song for this one: They/them/theirs- The Worriers


End file.
